Saniyah
by loosh4ev
Summary: In Arabic it means radiant. In America it translates to unwanted. But the CIA won't ever let me go." - Saniyah Solomon
1. Chapter 1: Missed Ballet Recitals

**A/N: Enjoy**

**disclaimer: I do not own Gallagher Girls. I am not Ally Carter. She did not write this. She simply inspired me. **

I don't know why I'm writing this. Maybe because I'm tired. I'm tired of walking around trying not to slouch due to the weight I always carry. The weight of secrets. The weight of lies. The weight of knowing things that no seven-teen year old should know. I'm surprised the CIA lets me walk around. Well, actually, they didn't always let me walk around.

I was born in Damascus, Syria. My mother was a single parent never married, something seriously frowned upon. So my mother wore a ring on her ring finger, and we told those curious that my father had died in service. We lived with her brother. However my father was not dead, and wrote letters and sent postcards- my first experience at code cracking. But he never visited. I asked my mom about him, but she'd only smile and comment we had the same eyes, and that she'd tell me more when I was older.

"Older" turned out to be when I was six. My mother sat me down and explained to me she was a specially trained government operative, or in other words, a spy. It would explain why she had missed my ballet recitals. And my father, well, he was a spy too. Except he worked for another agency and another government. I was to go live with him because it was safer there, much safer. Women had more rights there. Besides, every girl needs her daddy.

There are some things you never forget. My dad's face when I first saw him is one of those things. When I stepped off the plane his face lit up with a large smile. You've never seen someone smile that big before. Ever. He picked me up and swung me around. I laughed. He laughed. You've never heard laughter that heart felt. His bright green eyes shone with happiness. Unless you've been reunited with a family member, you've never known happiness like that.

Too bad it doesn't last forever.

**A/N: Review please! **


	2. Chapter 2: The Doorbell

**A/N: I would like to thank Diva for being the first commentor, and to answer one of their questions, Saniyah will end up at the Gallagher Academy, but for the next couple chapters it's about her childhood. **

**Disclaimer: Again, I am not the talented Ally Carter, nor do I own the Gallagher Girls. I wish I did. **

Some people grow up to fast because they want to. Others are forced to. Either way it's a tragedy.

At the end of the weekend, my mom had to go back to Damascus. I remember it took a long time to get to the airport. Looking back, I realize it's because we had to loose our tails. Before she got on the plane, she knealt down and gave me a hug. Her eyes. I won't ever forget her eyes. Sad, worried, but strong and determined. Proud. "What's wrong?" I asked.

"Nothing sweetie, I'm just going to miss you."

"Won't you visit?"

"It's complicated."

"I love you."

Her smile was beautiful, but twisted with pain. "I love you too sweetie, I love you too."

I watched her board the plane, watched her warm brown eyes that I would never forget, her wavy black hair shining like a halo around her honey skin. And I knew. I knew she wouldn't visit- that she couldn't visit. I knew I was with my father to stay.

That's the last time I ever saw her.

My dad lived in Washington D.C. Next door was a girl my age. Her name was Cameron, but I always called her Cammie. Her parents were friends of my father's. They worked together too.

Cammie and I were best friends. We would always find something to do. I remember this one time we rigged a swing on one of the city parks so whoever sat on it was propelled fifty feet in the air using only our hair ties. We made parachutes for ourselves too. We did almost everything together: go to school, go to the playground, read books, hack into our parents' mission files, and be there for each other when our parents couldn't be. I told her she was like a chameleon because even in elementary school she was a true pavement artist.

Me, I didn't find out what I was good at until I was ten.

When I was ten, I was in the fifth grade. When I was ten, my mother mailed me two coded letters like she did every year. One for Christmas and one for my birthday. When I was ten, Cammie and I had started to hack into CIA video surveillance to see if we could spot our parents on missions. When I was ten, the twin towers burned to the ground.

When I was ten, I was with my dad at home playing battle ship (and winning) when the doorbell rang. He went to go answer it. I should've known something was wrong. We didn't get salesmen, and Dad always told me when someone was comming over. Cammie and her parents always knocked at the back door, and sometimes just walked in.

"She's just a child," I heard my father say.

"She's a security threat."

"What is this all about?" came Rachel Morgan's voice from outside.

"It doesn't concern you."

"She's my God-daughter. It does concern me."

Ten elitiely trained men and women began to search the house. The first thing they spotted was me. I tired to run, but they were too fast. They held my dad, Rachel, and Chris to the floor. "Now be reasonable," spoke Chris as I kicked and screamed. "Unless you have evidense that she's a terroist, I'd think it'd be best if Saniyah remained with her father."

But they didn't care. They didn't listen. They didn't have to.

They dragged me outside, and after biting one of the men, I broke free. I ran faster and harder then I ever had before. Crossing streets and turning corners, I'd go in the front of one building only to crawl out the window ten minutes later. I hopped the subway and hop off. I did this for three days. If I was hungry, I'd slip food into my pocket. At night, I'd ride the subway.

I learned something every spy must learn. Spies walk a moral tight rope. We do bad things for good reasons.

On the fourth day...something was different. I could feel it. Maybe that's why I'm good at counter-surveillance- I feel it when something's not right.

I was tired. I was hungry. And I missed my dad. Somehow I knew that it had to end. But I've never been one to give up. Ever. So I kept on going.

I was swinging in the park Cammie and I went to when someone pushed me. The hands were strong and soft, definitely impatient. They felt impatient and unsure, and agrivated becuase they were unsure. "What now?" I asked.

"You come with me. No biting this time," she said, the smallest smile in her voice.

**A/N: I love reviews! Even if they may be harsh. **


	3. Chapter 3: The Question

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews! They make me smile :) **

**Disclaimer: I am not ally carter. no way. And I do not own the Gallagher girls series. **

Once inside CIA headquarters, I was lead to a dark room qith chairs and sofas. A man in a dark suit sat down in front of me. He looked exhausted, but he smiled. "Hello Saniyah, I'm Mr. Fifts." He held out his hand. I didn't shake it. "I wanted to tell you that what you did is very impressive. Not many trained operatives can avoid trails even with the proper amount of back up.

If he was expecting me to say thank you, it wasn't going to happen.

"We just have a few questions for you. If you'll come with me." He lead me to sterile room with a chair and a large screen. "Just take a seat."

Reluctantly I did as told. There was a bald man standing at what I knew to be a polygraph machine. "What's your name?" he asked as if he didn't know.

"Saniyah," I answered. Loud and strong.

"What's your full name?"

"Saniyah Lea Solomon."

"When is your birthday?"

"Planning on buying me a present?" It just slipped out. Mr. Fifts was smiling.

"When is your date of birth?" I knew that everything I said they would try to trace back to my mother. They'd try to find her- maybe kill her. Who knew what they'd do to me. But then I realized they already knew. They had files on every employee. If it wasn't in my father's file, they probably had it from school records.

"March 7, 1991."

"Where were you born?"

"Damascus, Syria."

"Just a few more," encourage Mr. Fifts as if that would automatically make everything better.

"Who is your biological father?" As if he hadn't debriefed him before.

"Joesph Solomon."

"Who is your biological mother?" This was it. _The _question. This was the question they didn't know the answer to. Mr. Polygraph had taken his eyes off the screen. Mr. Fifts was twirling his mustache. My mind began to race. The letters. They had to have had the letters. They already knew she probably lived in Damascus. If I lied, the polygraph machine would most likely detect it, if it didn't a fake name would put someone else in danger. If I told them the truth, they'd find her.

So I sat there.

Mr. Polygraph repeated the question twice.

I refused to answer.

So they took me to Damascus. For weeks we walked the streets. For weeks we watched surveillance videos. For weeks I would escape trying to distract them. After the first time, they put a chip under my skin. The second time, I dropped it down a river. But I always came back when I noticed the number of agents increase so they wouldn't accidentally spot my mother.

"Whose side are you on?" asked an agent named Ron.

"America's I guess. Equal rights and freedoms, you know?"

"Then why won't you help us?

"Would you ever help someone kill your mom?"

He never asked again.

It was inevitable I suppose. Just a matter of time and resources. I guess I always knew they'd find her. They only have to get lucky once.

It was on surveillance. Every women who had been over eight-teen in 1991 in Damascus found on surveillance was compared to files from hosptial security cameras and records.

Eleven months and twenty-two days since they rang the doorbell. But they found her.

"You were good Saniyah, but there was nothing else you could do," said Agent Ron. "At least you can go home now."

But I couldn't.

My name is Saniyah. In Arabic it means radiant. In America it translates to unwanted. But the CIA won't ever let me go.

**A/N: I really really do love reviews. **


	4. Chapter 4: The List

**A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews. They mean a lot.**

**Disclaimer: Unless there's been some sort of freaky friday, I am not Ally Carter, and I do not own the Gallagher Girl Series. **

If you're reading this, you have clearance. High clearance. Top clearance. If you're reading this you probably already know what the CIA does with children like me. If you've just been cleared, maybe they're handing this to you to see if you're cut out for this kind of job. Or maybe this will go unread. I like that idea better.

I'm not the only child who's parents got carried away or fell in love on a mission with the enemy or a rocky relationship. World wide, as in the world of our allies, there are eight of us known. Three of us have a parent from the CIA. In fact, here's the list:

Year: 2008

Name: Parent Affiliation: Gender: Age:

Copenhaver, Kathryn Marie: Germany-Cuba: F: 9

Francois, Jamal Russel: France-Algeria: M: 6

Goode, Riley Andrew: United States- Bulgaria: M: *17

Jones, Lily Skye: United States-Colombia: F: 10

Kim, Joanne Rhonda: England-N. Korea: F: 14

Meyer, Shane Curtis: England- Iraq: M: 7

Novitsky, Holly Anastasia: Russia- Georgia: F: 12

Solomon, Saniyah: Lea United States- Syria: F: 17

They call us (unofficially) creamies. Like half n' half cream. And we're valuable. Once we turn twelve the CIA sends their creamies to spy schools in or near their enemy nationality. We send back reports on the curriculum, the teachers, and the students. If there's something in the are that needs to be checked on, they send us. If there's a mission that requires teenagers, they send us. It's dangerous, but that kind of went without saying. Come our senior year, we're transferred to either the Gallagher Academy or the Blackthorn Institute. This is so our training is guaranteed to be the best.

But make no mistakes. I love what I do. I just wonder if I would love being a normal 17 year old too.

**A/N: So this concludes Saniyah's childhood. Next chapter is the Gallagher Academy. Review Please! **


	5. Chapter 5: It Could Be Home

**A/N: I'd like to thank kasplosion for pointing out a few things in the last chapter. First, by "rocky relations" I meant that some of the countries listed as "enemy" have had an off again off again reltaion to between alie and enemy. Sorry it came out weird. Second, there wasn't supposed to be a colon before Saniyah's middle name. As for the questions the last chapter left, you'll have to wait just a little longer :)**

**Disclaimer: I'm not Ally Carter and I don't own the Gallagher Girl Series. I'm just a fan. **

I'd heard stories and seen pictures of the Gallagher Academy, but that was nothing compared to the real thing. It was beautiful. Magnificent. Regal. Humble. It looked like it could be home. It looked like there could be family waiting inside. Well, outside my dad _was_ waiting. And that fact took my breath away. I didn't wait for the limo to stop. I ran to my father. And even though I'm a spy, I'm also a girl. So I cried. The last time I saw my dad, he was pinned to our living room floor next to our battle ship game ten years ago.

I'd spent my vacations at the CIA. They had a house in D.C. just for creamies for this purpose. But that's the thing. It was just a house. Never a home. Just like Shamara's School for Women was just an old Palace. Sure, I had friends there. Friends who thought my name was Shula Sahara, friends who I wrote reports on, friends the CIA would track for the rest of their lives however long or short that way be. If you've just been cleared and they handed this to you, I bet you're throwing up right now. I know I did the first time I sent a report back. When our Cov Ops teacher went on a mission and didn't come back I knew it was because of me. She was my room mate/ friend's mother too. But like I said, maybe no one will ever read this. Maybe it's best left unread.

"I missed you so much dad," I choked out wiping my tears.

He held me out at arms length, and I saw he had been crying too. "You're so grown up." I saw him realize that I was almost an adult, and that he had missed most of my childhood.

"So, um, how's the job?" I asked changing the subject. I asked as if I saw him everyday. It felt good.

He noticed, rolled his eyes, but told me anyway as he lead me through the mansion doors.

"Any lady friends?" I teased. He didn't say anything. "You're not going to tell me?" I asked shocked.

"How does it feel not having access?" she sounded smug. I glared at him, and he barked laughter.

"Saniyah," said the warm voice of Rachel Morgan still as pretty as she was ten years ago. But Chris was missing. Last time I saw her, she had been with Chris. I had clearance to the file with his name on it, but I had never gone past the mission he was on when he disappeared. How could I look at Rachel in the eye if I knew what happened to her husband, but she didn't?

I rushed to her and gave my god mother a hug. "It's so good to see you."

"You too kid."

"Hey, you wouldn't happen to know if my dad has a lady friend, would you?"

"The affairs of my staff are-"

"So you won't tell me either."

She grinned. "Just bring your stuff to my office for now. At dinner we'll have a raffle to see which room you stay in." She opened the door, and I was greeted by a familiar voice.

"I did not take any skittles!" Said Cammie, her back facing me, with her hands up.

"Of course not," I said, "you took the m&ms."

Slowly, she turned around as a pixie blond haired girl swallowed the candy. "Saniyah? Oh my gosh! OH MY GOSH!" She ran to me, and we hugged tightly. "What are you doing here?"

"I transferred!"

"Are you serious?"

"You would know if I was lying."

"For the whole year?"

"The whole year!"

"I missed you so much!"

"I missed you!"

"You never wrote!"

And there it was. The cloud to cover my sun. But I shook it off. I had too much training. And I was too stubborn to let this ruin my day. "I couldn't! The secret service wouldn't let us do anything."

"Oh! Saniyah, this is my friend Liz. Liz, this is Saniyah. We used to be neighbors. Liz and I just got back from Alabama."

"Never fall asleep by the pool," Liz laughed.

We walked to the Great Hall together. On the way two girls named Bex and Macey joined us, and I couldn't help but to laugh and laugh at their jokes and their stories as they talked about the seventh graders (in Farsi) in front of us. I think I knew then, that we were going to be friends.

"So you transferred?" asked Liz as we waited for the rest of the school to come to dinner. "From where?"

"Another spy school." Her eyes lit up. She must have been a scientist. But before she could ask any more questions Rachel stood up to make her speech. "Welcome back," she smiled. "It is so nice to see all of you here. Well," she sighed happily, "it's another year. For some of you, it's your last year, and for others your first. This year, we not only have new seventh graders but a new senoir with us- a transfer student, Saniyah Solomon." A buzz filled the hall. "We'll have a raffle to see which room she stays in, so if any senoir wishes to welcome her, please enter before dessert. And with that...."

All the eyes at the senoir table turned towards me. "Oh yeah," said Cammie casually, "I forgot to mention that Saniyah is Mr. Solomon's daughter."

**A/N: All reviews welcome. I really do appreciate them. **


	6. Chapter 6: Injustice

**A/N: So here it is! Sorry the update took longer then usual. School was busy. **

**Disclaimer: I am not Ally Carter, and I do not own the Gallagher Girls. I just make their lives ten times more complicated :P**

It was deadly silent then the senior table, and really every table, erupted. I was hounded with questions ranging to what was my father's favorite color to what was his favorite tail technique.

When I was younger I asked my dad what his favorite color was. He said orange. I asked him why. He said it had a funny way of popping up in his life. It was the color at his best friend's wedding (the Morgan wedding), it was the color of my mom's dress when he first saw her, and it was the color of my onesie when he first saw a photo of me.

But I didn't say that. I didn't say anything. Instead my insides screamed with jealously. They were scourged with injustice, burning with pain. These girls had seen my father almost everyday for two years while I had only ever seen him for four. And I'm his daughter.

There's a saying that life isn't fair. It's not. Not by any stretch of the imagination. But people tell us this as if that automatically makes everything right. It doesn't.

"So why didn't you come to the Gallagher Academy until now?" asked Eva Alvarez.

"Oh, my mom worked for the state department, and was sent to Israel to help resolve the conflict there. So I moved with her."

"But why _this_ year?"

"Um," I bit my lip, "last February she was diagnosed with fourth stage cancer and passed away in April." And even though that legend was sad, I almost preferred it. Almost.

"Oh!" she said shocked. "I'm so sorry!" But I couldn't help but to wonder if she'd say the same thing if she knew my mother had been responsible for CIA deaths. Somehow I doubt it.

Tina Walters didn't seem quite satisfied. I knew Tina's type. A spy and a gossiper. A useful, but no always very safe combination. The only thing that'll keep her alive in the field is her drive for answers and justice. Because honestly, believing the wildest rumors can either get you killed or make you one of the best agents out there. 50-50 chance.

But she wouldn't find any wholes in my cover.

"Time for the raffle!" announced Rachel. She stuck her hand into the bowl of dorms, and pulled out a neatly cut piece of paper. She smiled as she read it. "Our new senior will be staying with Cam, Bex, Liz, and Macey."

Bex grinned. Liz looked quite impressed (something tells me she cheated the system). Macey smiled. And Cammie beamed. The little things in life make it work the injustice.

**A/N: Please please review. I love reading every one. **


	7. Chapter 7: It Was Real

**A/N: I love the reviews!!**

**Disclaimer: I am not Ally Carter, and I do not own the Gallagher Series. Period. **

I was aware that Macey was eagerly watching me as I unpacked my clothes. "What? I need to see what kind of fashion sense you have, and whether or not I have another Cammie on my hands."

"Hey! Just because I like to be comfortable doesn't mean I have a bad fashion sense," Cammie said defensively folding her arms.

I laughed. "Well what do you think Macey? Do I pass?"

Bypassing my uniform she looked through my pairs of skinny jeans, my t-shirts and sweaters, my jean skirts, and my brightly colored tights. "Not bad," she murmured. Then she found my leotards, my soft ballet shoes, and my pointe shoes. "Ballerina?" she asked looking me up and down.

"Ever since I was five. I even convinced Cammie to take a class with me once."

"No way!" said Bex edging closer on my newly delivered bed.

Cammie glared at me. "You said it would help with my balance for self defense!"

"It _was_ supposed to."

"The teacher called me a klutz!"

"Well you're not the most graceful," Liz stated matter-of-factly.

We spent all night talking. They told me about Josh and Zach. The second of which I must admit I had actually known since I was twelve since his half brother was a creamie. Sometimes if we needed an extra teenager for a mission, he'd come. He was the only family member, the only outsider allowed access into our world, but even he didn't know everything.

They asked about Israel, and I told them about the wall that stretched 30 feet tall, 6 feet deep, and seemed to go on forever. I talked about the hot scorching heat, and how the only escape was the Levant that stayed 60 degrees year round. Bex's grin stretched when I told about a bomb threat or five. They never suspected that I had never lived in Israel.

I asked about London, Nebraska, Alabama, and D.C. I craved their stories that they could tell without a second thought. That they could tell without the CIA administrating memory loss tea.

And that night I dreamed. I dreamed my favorite dream.

The carnival. I'm a five year old when it comes to carnivals, festivals, and fairs. The lights. The food. The sounds. The games. The Ferris wheel. He sits next to me on the Ferris wheel, and we laugh. He feeds me funnel cake. We kiss and laugh some more.

My eyes snapped open. Carefully I took out the picture underneath my pillow. He held me bridal style. In the background there was a Ferris wheel. It was nice to know it had all really happened.

**A/N: So I really really really like reviews!!! **


	8. Chapter 8: Mission Sort of Accomplished

**A/N: Sorry this took a while. There was no internet connection where I was for Thanksgiving, and then I had school and homework. And I would like to thank kasplosion, Sarix Angel, and temswitzforever, you're reviews made me smile. Sorry I kept you waiting. But HERE IT IS!**

**Disclaimer: (shockers) I am not Alley Carter and (even bigger shockers) I don't own the Gallagher Girl Series. **

Some classes at Gallagher I found unbelievably easy, and others unbearably difficult. But as it was my senior year, a lot of classes were focused on being a spy.

COW- knew it like the back of my hand

Debriefing- done it hundreds of times before (in the beginning I thought it would be an easy class)

PHD Computer Science- hurt my head

Acting- incredibly fun

History of Warfare- knew it all

C&A- never learned it

P&E- Bex had met her match

Cov Ops- it was my life

I knew the teachers were watching me even though they tried to hide it. The girls were watching me without shame. I can't say I blame them. Tina would always try to walk with me to my next class, but once we stepped into the hallway I disappeared. I may stand out in a room full of girls, but try to look at me again and you won't be able to. When I want to be I'm uncrackable.

And I had the chance to prove that.

It was our second Cov Ops class. There was a note on the door in Dad's handwriting.

_5 pm on the lawn. Town Clothes._

A van screeched up to the mansion doors that evening. "Get in," said my father. We did, and he drove quickly. The car was no doubt stolen. "I have written your mission on a piece of paper. They are in the glass bowl back there." We all found our missions and carefully I unfolded mine. _Arepostale 7:30 pm_. I slipped the piece of paper in my mouth just as Anna Fretterman opened the van doors. We were at Roseville's only and rather small shopping district located in the equally small downtown "One last thing ladies, you'll be working alone for this one. You won't always have a friend to save you."

I felt my heart stutter, and with one last look at my father, I got out of the van.

Apparently shopping is a hot thing on Friday nights in Roseville. I mean, the sidewalks weren't flooded withpeople, but they certainly weren't abandoned either. I thought about the assignment. Since we weren't allowed to work together, I had to assume that it could be a fellow classmate's assignment to tail me. Of course, it could be any one. It can always be anyone. Whoever it was though, would probably be looking for a lone teenage girl who, if she was withanyone, was with other girls.

So the first thing I did was walk into a sports store and start looking at basketball shoes. "Which brand do you go for?" I asked the guy next to me.

"Nike." He smiled a sort of half smile. "My name is John." There was something about him different then your average guy on the street. He stood straighter, looked more confident, you know? I like that in a guy. But it's been my experience that guys who stand taller tend to be more observant, and guys that are more observant tend to be spies. But I needed a cover, and he _was_ rather attractive.

"Sarah," I answered. He walked me out the store. I was watching everyone as we talked.

His full name was John Weston (because there really are too many John's around). I was Sarah Smith (my parents were unoriginal too, I joked)

Kim Lee had changed into a Roseville High Cross Country jacket.

He was a senior at Roseville High School. I went to a school a town over. I was here to visit a friend, but I was a little early.

Bex was on the arm of some foot ball jock. It was then I got the feeling I was being followed.

He played baseball. Basketball was ten times better.

Mitch walked out of a pharmacy.

He was probably going to join the military. I had, as weird as this may sound, always wanted to work for the FBI.

Kim Lee walked into an ice cream parlor.

His favorite subject was history. Really? So is mine!

Courtney walked out of a clothing store with a small shopping bag with some girl.

His favorite holiday was Christmas. I laughed and said I liked 4th of July.

Tina Walters was laughing with some girls in a cheer uniform.

Do you want something to eat? I'd love a milkshake.

I turned around as John opened the door to a small diner. I do't know what made me do it, I never do, but quickly I scanned the crowd, and my eyes passed over Kim Lee. She was my tail. Or at least one of them.

I had my milkshake with John, and when I got out money to pay he wouldn't let me. I gasped at the time (7 pm) even though he pointed out I wasn't wearing a watch. I laughed and pointed to the clock behind him on the diner wall. I told him my friend was waiting and I had to go. "Let me walk you." I looked into his eyes. They laughed. He was amused, and guys aren't usually amused when they are being courteous unless they're like Zach and mock the concept every now and then. Unless they are a spy.

"No, it's fine really. It's just a few blocks away."

"I'd hate it if something happened to you."

"In Roseville?" I laughed.

"Those sidewalks can be dangerous. They've had several instances of scraped knees."

"I think I can take 'em."

"Will you be back next Friday?"

"Depends on how much homework I have. But I really do have to go. Bye!"

I headed towards the door, but I slipped back to the restrooms. I crawled out of the window into an alley. There I saw, or rather sensed, that I was completely alone. On the backside of Arepostale were five smaller windows placed up high indicating the want for privacy. One at either end could've been a bathroom, but the others were probably dressing rooms. I scaled the wall and discovered that the first window was dressing room number one, meaning the second window was dressing room number two. As soon as it was empty I worked to unlock the window and landed softly inside. I locked the door.

Mission accomplished. It was 7:27.

At 7:30 someone knocked.

"It's occupied," I called back. This was a store after all with costumer's waiting to try on clothes.

"I have the dress you wanted." It was the voice of Rachel Morgan. Carefully I unlocked the dressing room door, and indeed she was standing there with a dress in her hands. "That looks good on you," she smiled. "Here's the dress. Let me know if you need anything else." She left. Inside the dress pocket was a note in Dad's handwriting. _Van._

Anna Fretterman and I arrived back at the van at the same time. She was smiling. "Completed." We said at the same time.

"Where's everyone else?" she asked.

"Maybe they had a longer deadline," I shrugged.

At 8 Bexcame back to the van along with Eva and Courtney, all had bruises and black eyes. By 9 everyone was back, in various conditions, except for two people. Kim and Cammie. We drove back to school without them.

We waited in class for them. At 9:30 they both walked into sub-level 4. "You're seniors ladies," spoke my father. His voice was death. "In less then ten months you'll be on your own. You were all pitted against each other tonight. If you couldn't handle that, then leave. We'll find a nice desk for you. And you can go on and live your life relatively normally. And your friends can risk theirs." No one said a word. In fact I'm not sure if anyone was even breathing.

On the way back to our dorms it was discovered that Anna's tails were not any one of us.

Courtney tailed Eva and Eva tailed Bex, and when Bex arrived at her destination shortly followed by Eva and Courtney a fight broke out.

Tina tailed one of Anna's tails. Mitch tailed Tina to discover what lip gloss she used and to bring the case back. Unfortunately for Mitch, Tina always guards her lip gloss. Maybe that explained Mitch's swelling bruised hand.

Kim tailed Cammie (her success is debatable)

Cammie the Chameleon tailed me. Not Kim.

Unsuccessfully.

**A/N: Review! And I was considering a little senior ball with some blackthorne boys, but I'm not sure so let me know what you think! And if your name is Sarah or John, I think those are lovely names. I just know a lot of them :)**


	9. Chapter 9: It Was Too Real

**A/N: So, I went back and changed the last chapter just a little with the help of a review by** **Gallaghergirl396**. **Basically, Saniyah never determined Cammie as her tail, but instead thought Kim was her tail. But Cammie still can't follow Saniyah. Thanks for all your reviews!**

**Disclaimer: I am not Ally Carter, and I do not own the Gallgher Girl Series. Not now, not ever.**

I sat in bed a few nights after our Cov Ops mission. It scared me that I had not seen Cammie. Usually I knew right away. When I turned, I saw _every_ tail.

But Cammie the Chameleon has that name for a reason.

She's good. Really good.

And by the end of the year, the CIA would be begging her to take a job.

I was glad she was on my side.

Yet, I couldn't explain to my room mates why I was so off for a few days. I couldn't say that for me, if I couldn't spot a tail, I'd die. (Which is somewhat true for every spy.) That I'd been on missions. I'd been on a mission where my partner couldn't spot a tail, and my partner was captured by the enemy and was killed.

But everyone was kinda off afterwards. It was senior year after all. We had to get good, or get dead. Period.

But I couldn't reassure them a little and say that I'd been on missions where the enemy was not nearly as good as they were.

"I never saw you," I told Cammie since her bed was rather close to mine.

"Then why couldn't I follow you?" That made me feel a lot better. In fact, I think I took my first full breath since that night.

"I saw Kim."

I heard her breathe for the first time too.

When I fell asleep that night, I had my favorite dream. But it didn't end with the funnel cake and the Ferris wheel.

_We get off the Ferris wheel and while he goes to the "bathroom", and I go over to a game booth, and try to win a prize. I fail. The guy next to me, one of our targets, offers to show me how to aim the toy gun a little better. It works, I win a small bunny toy. He says he has a real gun nearby I can practice with, and he takes me to the undercover bomb factory we had been looking for. I take pictures with the necklace around my neck. After a little while, I trll him I really do have to go. _

_I'm on my way back to meet my partner at the ferris wheel when I see him and a girl tailing him. "You've got a tail," I tell him. _

_But he doesn't answer. The signal is out. _

_So I call him on my cell phone. He picks up, and I can breathe again. "Hey!" he says, "Where are you?"_

_"I'm at the thing where you lift the hammer and try to ring the bell. But the lights on it are kinda toasty. You should come try though. I've noticed if you hit it at the tail then you hit the bell and the toasty lights flash."_

_But there is no answer. I look down, and my phone is dead._

_The tail is getting closer to him, and there were so many booths she can push him into, and then who knows what. So I run to him. I call his (code) name. Afterall, isn't that what other people do when they find someone in a crowd? But the tail notices, and with a few long strides she reaches him, and places a patch on his arm. He turns around, and grabs her arm with an indestructible grip and drags her with him. I reach to take the patch off his hand, but it's too late. He passes out. The girl and I precede to fight, and I knock her out. A large man comes and picks my partner up and even though I kick him where it hurts he kept going. I try to follow, but by then a police officer nearby has come to arrest me. _

_At the police car, I kick the officer to the ground where he conveniently hits his head and passes out. As I was run blocks and blocks to where the black SUV that holds the rest of our team my comms unit starts working again._

_"Who do you work for?"_

_"I don't work for anyone," his voice comes through._

_"Do you work for the United States?"_

_"I don't work for anyone."_

_"England?"_

_"I've told you, I don't work for anyone!" _

_There are screams. His screams. And over them I hear a man's booming voice shouting, "Israel? France? Kuwait? Tell me who you work for!"_

_"I don't work for anyone," he breathes raggedly. I run faster. Harder. _

_"Fine! Who was that girl with you?"_

_"Just some girl I met at the fair." I cross streets with cars that squeal to a stop and honk their horns with drivers that shout and shakr their fists. _

_"What's her name?"_

_"Anoosha." I see the SUV. I just have one more street to cross. _

_"What's her real name?" _

_"That is her real name!"_

_"You're lying!" I am so close to the SUV, I'm crossing the street when- BAM! A car hits me. I hear screams. His screams. My screams. The screams from the people on the sidewalk. I hear a loud booming voice. "Tell me her name! What's her name?! I know you know! Tell me your girlfriend's name! Tell me!"_

_I'm crying. I'm crying from my head that is splitting with pain from my heart that is bleeding. My team comes out of the SUV, and pulls me into the back seat telling the concerned driver and bystanders they'll take me to the hospital._

_"She's not my girlfriend, and I've already told you her name." _

_"We'll never get anything out of you," the man says gravely._

_There is a shot. A shout of pain. A pause, "Who do you work for?" There is no answer. Another shot. Another shout of agony. Another pause, "What is her name?" Again there is no answer. My rib cage feels as if it will explode. I feel like I'm drowning. One last gun shot. "Go do something with the body."_

My eyes snapped open. I felt wet tears on my face.

**A/N: So the ball is out, but any other suggestions that involve meeting Blackthorne boys? Because I have a plan to introduce a new one, I just don't really know how. Review please! **


	10. Chapter 10: Disney Makes Me Sick

**A/N: Happy Holidays! Enjoy!**

**Dislcaimer: I am not Ally Carter, and I do not own the Gallagher Girl Series.**

I guess you could say the semester rolled on as normal as Gallagher Academy rolls on. Every senior was focused, ready, and waiting. Every senoir was laughing, having fun.

And you'd be surprised how many girls actually had a boyfriend or a love interest.

Anna Fretterman with a boy she met at a national science camp during the summer.

Tina Walters with a guy that worked with her as an intern at her mother's paper during the summer.

Kim Lee wrote letters to some mystery guy I highly suspected attended a military school near her home town.

Cammie often told me about Zach.

Liz is a computer genius, so yeah, she can hack into Jonas's e-mail.

Macey, well, according to several magazines, was dating a Hollywood star when really she was just interested in the sons of D.C. stars. Particularly one named Preston.

In her sleep, I heard Bex say Grant's name.

It was the first day of November. A Saturday. We were having girl talk, especially about boys. Suddenly Cammie, laying on my bed, turned to me and said, "Saniyah, why don't you have a boyfriend?"

The room felt all of a sudden very cold, as if the frost on the windows had seeped into my bones. "I'm not the kind of girl to fall in love," I answered realizing it was true.

"Why not?" demanded Liz.

Like all the world had stopped turning. "I don't believe in happy endings." And there it was, the truth about myself. I didn't believe in happily ever afters. Disney movies made me sick. Fairy tales were a joke. Those princesses that just waited for Prince Charming were a disgrace.

And I'm on a plane as I write all of this. On my way to Winter Break with Cammie and Macey, Liz and Bex. Bex is sleeping, snoring rather loudly. Liz is working on extra credit. Macey flipping through a magazine. Cammie is sitting next to me writing something of her own. And I wish, I wish, I did believe in happy endings. But I don't- I can't. I wish I could be like Liz, who if she didn't sleep with her text books would sleep with Snow White or Cinderella. But I'm not, I can't be. I've seen too much. I know too much.

"Then who's this?" demanded Macey on that November day, reaching underneath my pillow holding up the picture I kept there. "Looks like a boyfriend to me."

Riley. Riley Goode. His black hair and shocking blue eyes grinning with creamy skin. Built like Zach was. He was laughing as he held me for a piggy back ride, my wavy dark brown hair spilling over his strong shoulders, my green eyes sparkling against my honey colored skin as I too laughed. The Ferris wheel was in the background and the funnel cake stand beside us.

"He was," I answered. My breath short.

"Was?" asked Cammie puzzled. "You keep a picture of your ex?"

"He died," I said. So tired. "Car crash."

Bex opened her mouth to say something reassuring, but I had already turned to leave.

**A/N: Review please! I really like this chapter, even though it's sad, but in the chapter with the list, there's a star by Riley's age as a weird little clue that he had died. Happier chapters will come I swear. **


	11. Chapter 11: Lucky?

**A/N: I know it's been so long since I've updated! I am so very very very sorry! I had exams that kept getting delayed by snow, and then we had a lot of makeup work because of the snow. But here it is!**

**Disclaimer: I am not the author of, and I do not own the Gallagher Girl series.**

Debriefing class turned out to also include the survival of torture tactics. We started with something easy according to my dad, who taught the class. We started out with guns.

"A gun shot," he said as winter break drew nearer, "only hurts for a minute. It tears through you and then it's gone. If you're a squealer when you see your own blood then leave. We'll put you at a desk." He waited, but no one moved.

We were in sublevel four. A large open room that expanded a football field in length. Sound proofed. Beautiful wooden floors. Hidden shelves filled with thousands of unknown things. Including guns. A chandelier from Gilly's time.

"If you're lucky, they'll use a gun." I tensed. I thought about the carnival, I thought about Riley. I gritted my teeth. I wouldn't call that "lucky". My father looked at me. Maybe he was trying to guess what had happened to me that involved torture and guns. "And if you're not so lucky, they might make you watch."

Maybe its because I'm his daughter, but I swear I saw his eyes mist over just for a second. One second.

"Today," he contuined, "we will be pairing up with one group of three. One of you will wear the a similator, and the other will ask a question and press the button that will make your partner feel as if she has been shot. Let's see how long you can last."

After hooking Bex up to several wire and bands that wrapped around her legs and arms Cammie asked, "Who are your parents?"

She lied giving fake names. Cammie and I looked at the button. In fact, everyone in the room looked at their button. And then, we all pushed ours at the same time. And our friends all screamed at the same time. Bex merely grunted.

"Who are your parents Bex?" I asked quietly, a booming voice ringing in my head.

"I told you already," she said breathing hard.

"You're lying," I whispered.

"No I'm not."

My heart pounded. This was wrong. This was so wrong. But spies do the wrong things for the right reasons. Bex had to know what it felt like. She had to be ready or else it wouldn't be a simulator. It'd be a real gun. This class just became my hardest. I pressed the button.

She shouted and cursed.

"Yes, you are," Cammie replied her face like stone.

It continued. Bex was the last one left. Some gave in. Others had a simulator that said they died.

When the other girls left after class I looked at my father. "Lucky?" I asked.

"You have no idea how much so." I felt like shouting at him. Like screaming at him. I think he realized that. And in a way to maybe make me feel better he said, "There's a mini fridge in my office with ice cream in it."

It _did_ make me feel better.

**A/N: Please review! This story is starting to run into some road blocks.**


	12. Chapter 12: Ridiculous

**A/N: Thank you for the reviews!**

**Disclaimer: I am not Allie Carter, and I do not own the Gallagher Girl Series. **

It was determined by Rachael and Cammie's Grandparents that our winter break would be best spent in Nebraska. So here's a secret, I had never been to a farm until then. I had lived in a city all my life, all my missions had taken place in cities, and even though Roseville is the smallest city you will ever find, it is still a city, or at least a town. I had never sat and been able to look straight ahead to the horizon. Actually, I had once, when I sat on a pier with Riley in Morocco. It was dark, just the moon, the starts, and the glow of street lights accompanied by city sounds that seemed so far away instead of how close they really were.

It may seem silly. It probably appears ridiculous. Ludicrous. But life is silly, ridiculous, and ludicrous. No doubt about it. So with that in mind, maybe it isn't too entirely mind blowing that I had fallen in love with Riley. That I had seriously thought that yeah, one day, we could end up married. We could be together forever.

As I sat leaning up against the barn on the slightly frosty grass of Mr. and Mrs. Morgan's farm, looking ahead to the ever stretching horizon that spanned in front of me, forever seemed entirely too long instead of how short it always was. And I thought about how even though I'm not the kind of girl to fall in love, I had. For a little while, I had been radiant.

"There you are!" said Liz. "I was looking for you, but I just couldn't find you."

"That's the game," I said, and tried to smile.

"We were all going to go into town. Did you want to come?"

"Why do you believe in fairy tales?" I asked her instead of supplying the easy yes or no answer she'd been looking for.

"Why wouldn't I?" she asked as she sat down next to me.

"Because you're a spy."

"Well, the odds of an actual prince coming to sweep me off my feet are 101 million to 1. But, it's a nice thought isn't? That someday, somewhere, everything could be just right for more than a second."

"It is," I said. "So, what's there to do in town?" I asked standing up, and helping Liz to her feet.

"Cammie said there's a small movie theater, and an ice cream shop. Some other little stores too."

"Sounds good," I said as we headed back toward the house, and loaded into an old green pickup truck. "You are not driving," I said as I saw Bex behind the wheel.

"Am too! I have a license!"

"You have a license for England," said Liz, "that's not legal here in the U.S."

"Oh, details, details."

"Plus, you always forget what side of the road to drive on," reminded Cammie.

"Well, it does create some excitement."

"Honestly," said Macey, "I could be up for stirring some trouble."

That was all Bex needed to turn on the engine and start down the (wrong side) of the road.

The town, I must admit, was adorable. Even cuter than Roseville. The buildings were made of old brick with the occasional wooden shop peeking out. There were definitely farmers milling around, going into feed stores, and walking out of hardware stores. There were a few high school students walking down the sidewalks with laughter still audible even through their scarves as it began to snow. "I'm hungry," said Bex.

Macey rolled her eyes, but Cammie lead us across the street to eat at a small cozy looking restaurant. We had all ordered when the little bell over the door rang. "Oh my gosh," gasped Liz.

Well, Cammie, Bex, and Macey turned to the nearest reflective surface, but honestly, when you're a spy, you have to act like you're not a spy, and regular girls would just look to see who made the bell over the door ring, so that's what I did.

And, let me tell you, oh my gosh, was such an understatement. Because do you know who had made that little bell ring? Do you know who walked in with winter scarves and coats brushing the snow out of their eyes? Grant, Jonas, Zach, and the so called John Weston.

**A/N: Please tell me what you think, because I need to know if I should keep going where this story is headed. All reviews are seriously welcomed!**


	13. Chapter 13: The Better Person

**A/N: So I realized that I hadn't updated this story since March. MARCH! I ought to be tried for treason or something. **

**Disclaimer: I am not Ally Carter, and I do not own Gallagher Girls.**

I must say I was actually rather angry to see them all there. More specifically, I was angry to see Zach.

Because he reminded me that it had been six months, to the day I realized, since Riley had been killed, his body recovered, his funeral held, his papers filed, his official story fabricated, and I, his girlfriend, heartbroken.

It had been half a year for the memories to haunt me, for the lessons to harden me, for the sleep to evade me, and for the questions to nag me.

Six months for me to ignore Zach's letters, to slap away his hand that reached out to help when no one else knew that I needed it- not even me.

So it really shouldn't have surprised me that when Zach pulled up a chair in between Cammie, and I, he turned his back towards me. It's funny how at a table full of people, of your friends, you can feel completely and utterly alone. I turned quickly away from Zach, and consequently to the so called John Weston.

"So what's your real name?" I asked quickly, anything to get my mind off of Riley and Zach.

"What's yours?" he asked.

"That's not how it works."

"Says who?"

"Me."

"John Ryan."

"Saniyah Solomon." I knew Zach was listening, I could almost feel his lips turn into a small smile, because well, he had never heard me introduce myself with my real name before except when I met him. And although probably not all too thrilled to see me either, he still cared about me.

He was still a better person than I was.

"Wait a second, how do you two know each other?" asked Bex interrupting her conversation with Grant.

"I tailed her that night you had an assignment in Roseville."

"When you said your last name is Solomon," started Grant, "did you mean the same Solomon as Joe Solomon?"

"Yeah," I answered, "he's my dad."

"Wow." He was obviously in awe; they all were, except for maybe Zach.

I wish I felt the same way about myself.

But I just gave the smallest smile, a little proud of my father, a little sad that no one would ever say the same thing about being my mother's daughter, and the conversations continued. Life continued.

**A/N: So not that I deserve any reviews for taking so long to update, but I certainly won't protest them!**


	14. Chapter 14: Fearless

**Discalimer: I am not Ally Carter (gasp!), and I do not own the Gallagher Girls (sigh). **

If you ever thought that spies were fearless, I'm sure you've realized that's not true. Fear is necessary. It keeps you on your toes, ready and alert. In healthy doses, it keeps you alive.

In unhealthy doses, it kills you.

And I realized over Winter Break, that it was killing me.

I was afraid to look Zach in the eyes, afraid to see pain that _I _put there.

As a result I spent two weeks completely hidden from him. He could not track me down. This meant though that I spent limited time with Cammie, and therefore Bex, and to do that I stayed out of Grant's notice, which in turn meant I steered clear of Jonas and consequently Liz, and therefore Macey. John was really the only person left.

However, I found, much like I had the first moment I met him, that John wasn't your average guy- he was better. He made me laugh, I mean really laugh.

Like one time I was over at his family's ranch. His mother was a school teacher, and his father a retired FBI agent ever since his grandfather had retired from farming, and needed him to take over. John drove the two of us in a tractor to go replenish the hay. At the time, my ranch knowledge being limited, I believed John when I asked, "When will the cows come?"

"You have to call for them," he said, "but they won't come if they think humans are nearby, so you have to get on your hands and knees and moo." I should've realized that he was smiling a little too wide.

"Really?" I asked although I was already getting down in position even though there was some snow on the ground.

"Really."

John must have let it go on for a good five minutes. Five minutes of me on all fours, craning my neck, acting like a cow. Five minutes! And then he started bursting out laughter.

"I can't be that bad!" I protested, "There _are _cows here!" And they were giving me a rather odd look.

"Here cows!" he called cupping his hands to his mouth, his voice pitching high and then low. The cows came running.

"Are you kidding me?" I nearly screeched. But his smile, well, it was irresistible, and it _had_ been pretty funny so I could only laugh along.

But I was afraid to let go. I was afraid to leave Riley.

So one night when the whole group was going to the movies, and John's hand reached for mine, instead of reaching for his like I desperately wanted to, I stepped ever so slighting to the side so he missed, and quickly hooked one arm through Macey's and the other through Liz's. Another time, he tried to kiss me, but I purposely tripped so I got a bruised knee instead.

I was afraid for my father, knowing that when he called me on Christmas Eve it was the night he and my mother first met. Knowing how it felt to lose her, to lose a person you vowed you could never live without.

I was afraid to ride the Ferris wheel that was at the local school's winter festival, so everyone else but John went.

But by then I was afraid to really even talk to him.

I was afraid to be my name sake, afraid to be radiant.

I was afraid that I didn't deserve to be.

Because it was my fault. It was my fault that Riley was dead. I didn't see the tail in time. I didn't warn him fast enough. It was my fault that Zach no longer had a brother. It was my fault that my mother was gone. I didn't protect her, I didn't stall long enough, I didn't stop the CIA. It was my fault that my father had to go on without her.

It didn't matter how easily I could hide from other people, I couldn't hide from myself. That's not to say I didn't run, I had been running since that doorbell rang when I was 10 years old.

The running, the fear, the guilt, all of it was killing me, eating away at me until eventually there would be nothing left.

And I let it happen. I thought that's what I deserved.

Until one day, three days until we were to go back to school, John had come by with the other blackthorn boys unexpectedly, and quickly I slid out the back door, afraid to even look at John, afraid for Zach to look at me. It would've worked out perfectly except after I stepped outside, someone was already there.

"You never wrote back," said Zach, sounding wounded.

"I couldn't," I said, looking down at my feet shifting nervously.

"Why not?" he demanded.

"You were his brother," I begged, the guilt crushing me, knowing that I had forced Riley to the grave- the one place he couldn't follow.

"You were my friend."

And it was then that I finally forced myself to look up at Zach. Finally, I looked him in the eye. And it was then that I realized that Zach had been afraid too. He had been afraid that he had lost a friend. "I still am," I told him.

**A/N: I know there's a little part of you that really wants to submit a REVIEW!**


	15. Chapter 15: Letting Go

I never realized how much energy it took to hide from people. I never realized that you never fully breathe properly when you're on counter-surveillance.

Talk about a shock to my repertory system when after I spoke those words to Zach, I took my first completely full breath in seven years. And no wonder my muscles were so taunt, and my reflexes so quick; I hadn't relaxed since I was ten.

Letting go.

It's called letting go.

When your chest feels like 50 pounds has been lifted off, when you feel like you suddenly have perfect posture, it's called letting go.

That night, when everyone else was asleep, I pulled the picture of Riley and me out from underneath my pillow. It was crinkled, worn thin. That large Ferris wheel loomed in the background. Instead of focusing on Riley, I focused on myself, and what I saw wasn't at all what I'd been expecting.

The picture, I knew, had been taken in June. That was only six months pervious, and yet as I glanced in the mirror across the room, it could have been six years. My green eyes sparkled in the picture, but in the mirror they stood flat. There were dark circles under them from my troubled sleep. My mouth felt stiff, like it wouldn't just effortlessly stretch into a grin. The girl in the picture looked radiant. The girl in the mirror looked hardened.

And I hated that. Riley would have hated that. My mother would have hated that. My father must have hated it too.

Because do you know what I realized? I realized that Riley and my mother, wherever they were, were not hardened, were not sad or angry, or anything I was. People just aren't like that after they die.

So why did _I_ have to be that way?

I didn't have to be.

I didn't deserve to be.

Carefully I put the picture into my suitcase. Never would I sleep with it underneath my pillow again.


End file.
